


Glenfiddich 1955

by spanglecap



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Feels, Fluff, Kissing, Whiskey - Freeform, i know it isn't christmas anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanglecap/pseuds/spanglecap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas is supposed to be one of the happiest times of the year.</p><p>Twinkling lights illuminate the streets and fill countless homes. Log fires, warm and inviting. Turkey and pudding. Families gathering together. Carol singers. Giving gifts. Children ripping open wrapping paper, elated. Bundling on layers of scarves and sweaters to keep warm. Mistletoe.</p><p>Hell, it was even snowing outside.</p><p>But Steve Rogers wasn’t feeling very festive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glenfiddich 1955

**Author's Note:**

> This was created as part of the Romanogers Secret Santa over on tumblr for VBProdz! Go and check out her amazing manips!! :)  
> (Also I am very aware of how not Christmas is it right now. But I am publishing anyway because fluff)  
> I have made a couple of tiny alterations because of course I noticed some glaring grammar flaws after I had submitted the fic. Have probably still managed to miss some

Christmas is supposed to be one of the happiest times of the year.

Twinkling lights illuminate the streets and fill countless homes. Log fires, warm and inviting. Turkey and pudding. Families gathering together. Carol singers. Giving gifts. Children ripping open wrapping paper, elated. Bundling on layers of scarves and sweaters to keep warm. Mistletoe.

Hell, it was even snowing outside.

But Steve Rogers wasn’t feeling very festive.

He’d had a few good Christmases, yes, but these days the festivities just didn’t hold the same bright gleam they used to when he was a child.

He thought it might be the cold, at the root of it all.

There had been too many winters spent scraping by for food and warmth in the Depression. Too many winters spent ill and weak in a poor part of Brooklyn. And after (after Erskine, that is), too much time freezing in trenches and soldiers’ camps in the War.

Too much time spent thinking about how it felt as ice filled his lungs and his brain when he’d put Schmitt’s jet in the water. Even more time lost remembering Bucky falling to his death in that icy ravine.

Too much time thinking about everyone he’d lost, before he woke up and after.

The festive spirit just doesn’t seem to reach him these days.

Leaving the bottle cap on the bar counter, Steve sank into the plush leather sofa with a heavy exhale. He raised the bottle to his lips, mumbling a quiet ‘cheers’ to Bucky with a small gesture to the heavens, and downed half the whiskey in one go. It burnt his throat, a burst of warmth blooming in his chest, but the effects quickly faded before the drink even hit his stomach. Bucky had always been a whiskey kind of guy, and Steve couldn’t help it if his head automatically filled with memories of his best friend whenever he drank it.  Maybe that’s why he’d chosen it from Tony’s stash in the first place.

Most of the other Avengers were downstairs, celebrating the season with one of Stark’s infamous parties. Steve had just about reached his limit of humouring a very intoxicated Tony (not to mention Clint and Thor) for the night and headed up to a quieter part of the Tower a short while ago.

He took another gulp of whiskey, resting his head back on the couch and closing his eyes.

“Well, that’s the most depressing thing I’ve seen since Clint got drunk and tried flirting with Bobbi,” a dry, teasing voice said from the other end of the room.

He looked over, even though he already knew who it was. Natasha.

“What is?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, dropping the black hold-all she was carrying on the floor with a heavy clunk and walking over to him.

“A guy who can’t get drunk, alone and drinking whiskey from the bottle on Christmas Eve?” she said as she sank down next to him on the sofa. “Really, Rogers?”

Well. When she put it like that, it did sound a little glum.

“Technically, I’m not alone anymore,” he retorted. The rest of her comment sank in. “Wait, Clint was flirting with Bobbi an hour ago.”

It looked like she had only just got back from her mission, windswept hair haphazardly curling over her shoulders and wearing a black turtleneck and combat trousers. He hadn’t seen her at the party. How had she known?

“Happens every time he gets drunk,” she smirked knowingly. “You’d think he would have learned by now.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. Clint Barton? Learn from his mistakes? Unlikely. Then again, he wasn’t exactly one to talk either.

“What are you drinking?” Natasha asked casually, changing the subject. Steve glanced at the label on the bottle.

“Glenfiddich 1955,” he replied.

“Oooooo, almost as old as you,” she jibed playfully. Steve rolled his eyes, though he never really minded her teasing. “Isn’t that one of the expensive ones?”

“Well, it’s Stark’s so it probably cost more than a house,” he said dryly. She laughed.

“Is it any good?” Steve shrugged.

“It’s alright.” He probably didn’t know enough about whiskey to really judge it properly.

Natasha didn’t speak again for a few moments, and Steve felt a little more content for her company. She had a way of doing that. Of making his chest feel a little less tight. He has a few more mouthfuls of whiskey.

“Mission go well?” he asked, just to make small talk. She pulled a face.

“Messy,” she said. “But fine.”

“Good,” he mused aloud under his breath, more to himself than to her.

“How about you? Didn’t feel like staying at the party?”

“Not really my thing,” he admitted. Another swig of whiskey. Already he’d managed to drink half the bottle. Tony probably won’t be pleased.

“And your thing is drinking alone?”

Steve rolled his eyes again and turned his head to look at her. Some kind of comeback was on the tip of his tongue but the way the corner of her rosy lips quirk up forced the words back down his throat, struck by the sudden urge to kiss her.

It wasn’t the first time the urge had hit him. It happened a lot, when she smiled at him like that. Like nobody else did. But he’d never acted upon it. Not before. It wouldn’t be right. Would it?

He leaned in and kissed her, plush lips parting to meet his before he knew what was happening. His head spun, the taste and smell of her filling his senses and lingering on even after he pulled back in a way the whiskey never could.

“Shit,” he blurted, realising what he’d just done. Why did he do that? Her eyes were closed, and she hadn’t moved an inch. His heart hammered in his chest, part of him fully expecting her to slap him in the face. Or kill him. Something painful.

Instead his gut twisted with longing when her pink tongue darted out to sweep across her bottom lip, before drawing it in with a slow bite.

Okay, maybe she’d kill him this way instead.

“That _is_ good whiskey,” she murmured. There was something different about her eyes when she looked at him again. Curiosity perhaps, or confusion. Either way, at least he was still breathing.

“Do you-I mean, do you um…wanna share it with me?” he stammered dumbly, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yes,” she replied after not much thought, shifting in her seat so that her body was turned to face him.

Steve reached for the bottle from the coffee table, but just as his fingertips brushed the glass Natasha grasped at his shirt and pulled him into another kiss. A much deeper one this time. One that made him shudder and melt all at the same time.

Suddenly Steve didn’t feel quite so alone anymore, with Natasha so close he could feel the warmth radiating from her body and seeping into his.

Her hands settled on his chest and he forgot all about whiskey.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone was wondering, the internet says that Glenfiddich 1955 apparently comes in at $94,000. 
> 
> Hope everyone had a lovely festive time!! <3


End file.
